


How to Train Your Richter

by Goron_King_Darunia



Category: Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World
Genre: Dragons, Expect sex, Expect vore, M/M, Rating May Change, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-27 02:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2675936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goron_King_Darunia/pseuds/Goron_King_Darunia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emil Castagnier, a boy of 18, searches the jungle for pineapple, unaware that he'll find MUCH more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Jungle

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Long time, no updates! XD Sorry everything's taking so long. College is being difficult this semester. I wrote most of this while procrastinating on my homework so you all better enjoy it! I'm still working on Flanoir and The Maid at Rosethorn Hall, so if you're waiting for updates on those, I promise I'll get to them! Also have another story in the works~ Hehehehe. In the meantime, I've just been wanting to write, and I've been batting around some good ideas for this fic with friends, so I figured 'Why not write it now?' So, here it is! A Dragon AU for my OTP. I'm still working on a title that's not a rip-off of How to Train Your Dragon, so if anyone has suggestions, I'm totally open to them! :D In the meantime, enjoy this first chapter of this silly, cracky, fluffy AU.

On a tropical island, deep in the twisting jungle, coiled in a cool, dark, secluded cave, Richter slept, nestled in a bed of fine silks and furs he'd salvaged from various wrecks and abandoned ruins over the decades (though many pelts were from animals he'd hunted himself). His tail flicked idly, as he turned over, in a brief moment of semi-consciousness as he was caught up in a dream. He absently scratched his hip, his sharp claws doing a fine job of dislodging pesky loose scales and flaking skin where the last bit of his recent molt was sloughing off. Shedding always made him restless. He reflexively flicked his wing when a fly landed upon it, shooing the insect away. All in all, it was a peaceful, lazy morning for a dragon like himself. That is, until something new stumbled into his territory.

His first warning was a faint whiff he caught on a breeze, a faint odor that he hardly noticed, and, if he even did, shrugged it off as a part of his dream. His second was the uproar of animals, calling to each other as something passed through their part of the rainforest. And his final warning, the one that finally coaxed him to open his eyes, was the crunching of the underbrush outside his cave. What he saw when he awoke sent a chill through his entire body.

*~*~*

Emil Castagnier, a boy of about 18, tiptoed cautiously through the undergrowth. There wasn't much in the forest that could do him serious harm, but he was the timid, anxious sort, and he wasn't too eager about encountering any wild animals, dangerous or not. Not that he didn't like animals. He just preferred not to have them jump out at him when he least expected it.  
  
Normally, he didn't venture this deep into the woods alone, but he really didn't have much of a choice. That is, unless he wanted to go home empty-handed. He had been looking forward to baking today. It was one of the rare occasions his aunt and uncle weren't around to abuse and belittle him and he wanted to make the most of it. Unfortunately, the particular ingredients he sought were not so easily found. Emil had a discerning palate, and finding fresh, quality pineapple that lived up to his standards was difficult. The ones sold at the market were always under-ripe, and his usual source - the small wild grove just outside of town - had been picked clean by wildlife.  
  
He'd come upon many other fresh fruits, mangoes, bananas, and lychees, but pineapple, for whatever reason, was _impossible_ to find. Exhausted and frustrated, he sat down on a rotting log, digging a handful of lychees out of his backpack. He pulled out his knife and ran it along the circumference, peeling the magenta skin away from the milky white flesh, before popping the fruit in his mouth, eating the meat away from the pit and spitting the seed into the detritus littering the jungle floor. He was beginning to get disheartened and was seriously contemplating returning home and making something else.  
  
 _Something with the lychees, maybe..._ He thought to himself, staring into his bag at the large sum of the pink oblongs. He wiped the sweat off his brow, his exposed skin uncomfortably itchy, covered in dust, dirt, and flecks of rotting wood. He munched on a few more lychees, taking the time to catch his breath and cool off for a moment, despite the warm, humid air of the jungle. Emil rather liked the warmth, or at least preferred it to the cold, but he had a certain threshold. It was warmer than usual today, making his trek less enjoyable than it could have been. He moaned, not knowing how long he'd have to endure all this before he found what he was looking for.

He finished off his snack, knowing he had to keep going if he ever wanted to find some ripe pineapple, wiping his knife on the hem of his shirt before sheathing it again, and zipping up his backpack in preparation to continue. Then... something tickled his hand. He suspected it was a leaf or a fly and didn't give it much thought... Until it started moving. Emil turned sharply, shrieking when he saw a very large, ugly, hairy spider crawling out of a hole in the crumbling surface of the log he was sitting on. He scrambled to his feet, scooped up his backpack, and scampered off as far away from the log as possible.

Emil couldn't even handle small spiders. A big one like the one he was fleeing from? He needed to put at _least_ a full mile between himself and that monster before he'd feel safe again. He dodged through thick groves of trees and clambered over detritus and undergrowth, trying to get as far away as he could manage. After navigating the jungle as quickly as his legs could carry him, Emil finally found an area where he could feel safe. Up against a barren cliff face, he clambered onto a small pile of rocks. They were smooth and flat and mostly free of debris, so he could be fairly certain nothing would crawl upon him and catch him by surprise here. He fished out a bottle of water from his backpack, quenching his thirst. He'd dashed quite a ways, and he gasped and panted, catching his breath for the second time in a very short while. He poured a bit of water over his arms and legs, just enough to rinse most of the dust and dirt off. It would take a while for his skin to stop crawling after that eight-legged encounter, but having a controlled sensation to replace the imagined ones was helpful.

Once he'd calmed down, Emil took a moment to survey his surroundings. "I've never been this deep in the forest before..." He wasn't exactly lost. He could certainly go right back the way he came, but he still didn't have what he came for and he did _not_ want to venture back into spider territory. "I better mark the path at least..." He took out his knife, carving a few niches in a couple of tree trunks so he knew which general direction to go in when he came back.  

"Might as well explore a bit since I'm already here." He shrugged. He decided he would follow along the cliff face, in hopes of finding either a safe route up, or a grove of pineapple somewhere along the route.

The sun peeked through the canopy as he ambled along. He could hear water flowing nearby. A good sign since his water bottle would only last him so long. Frogs were croaking and chirping, birds were twittering and squawking, the wind rustled the leaves of the trees all around. It was a nice ambiance, actually. Emil only ever got to indulge in this kind of calmness on walks like these, or during the middle of the night, when it was quiet enough in the wee hours before dawn.

He walked about a half mile before he found the stream he had been hearing, cascading over eroding rocks off the edge of the cliff into a shallow pool, trickling peacefully away into the jungle. Emil knelt at the side of the waterfall, unscrewing the cap on his bottle and refilling it. The water was cold and sweet and refreshing, and Emil splashed a few handfuls over himself, sighing happily at the cooling effect. He put the bottle back in his backpack after filling it again, doubting he would need it for a while after this drink, and pressed onward, hopping across the narrow stream at a shallow point and continuing along the cliff side.

Then he smelled it... a sweet, tart scent that made his heart leap. _Pineapple_. A grin spread across the blond's face as he picked up the pace, following his nose toward his quarry. He hurried along, hardly aware of the ruckus he created. Birds cawed and shrieked as they took to the air, lizards and frogs darted out of sight, insects scattered, and the few mammals in the area, mostly boars, watched cautiously from afar as this new, noisy being rushed through.

Finally, he could see them. Bunches of pineapples popping up on stalks surrounded by pointed leaves bathed in sunlight. He eagerly eased himself down a rocky incline, heading straight for the grove. He took out his knife and waded through the patch of leafy plants, sniffing around, searching for one that smelled just right. Drying leaves and twigs crunched beneath his feet as he stepped between the plants. And then...

_*Clack*_ The sound of rock smacking rock came from behind him. A stray rock falling from the cliff, no doubt, but Emil couldn't help but turn and look. He gasped, a bit startled by the sight before him. Caught up in the joy of finding what he sought at last, Emil had failed to notice the mouth of a sizable cave in the rock behind him. It was fairly deep and dim within, though Emil was sure there was something... moving inside... He squinted, cautiously walking toward it. Something was glittering... and something else... was scraping along the floor of the cave.

Then he saw it. And he froze. Eyes. Huge green eyes staring back at him. He gripped his knife tightly, trying to back away, but he couldn't move. The eyes blinked, rising slowly, and Emil trembled. The green-eyed figure gradually shifted, moving into the light, silhouette detaching from its surroundings. Red scales, pearly teeth, golden horns... it could only be one thing...

"D-dragon..." Emil whimpered, shaking where he stood.

*~*~*

Richter blinked, frozen at the sight before him. He'd had very little experience with humans before, but he knew what he was looking at. A boy... with a knife... He rose up, feeling rather vulnerable while backed into his cave, the boy blocking his only exit route. He moved a bit closer, sniffing the air, trying to discern how many there were. He could only smell one. The boy muttered something Richter couldn't quite hear, and he crouched, inching closer. "Who are you?"

Emil squeaked as the dragon growled, flinching and taking a step back, tripping over a pineapple and landing on his backside. He kept the knife pointed at the red reptilian creature, though a part of him knew it was a meager defense against the massive beast. "I... I d-don't want any t-trouble!"

This time Richter heard and recognized the language. A bit different from what the humans he knew spoke, but he was fairly certain he could communicate. "Who are you?" Richter asked again, this time in what he thought would be the human's tongue.

Emil stiffened, hearing the words in a deep, almost sinister tone. "Who are you?" He gulped nervously. Had the dragon really spoken? The dragons in the legends he knew never spoke. _I must be imagining things..._

Richter snorted, eyes narrowing at what he perceived as a refusal to answer. "Do you not understand or will you not answer me?"

Emil's eyes watered. What was the point of answering? He was sure he was going to die. The dragon wasn't unfathomably large, but it was big enough to do just about whatever it wanted with him. It had wings, claws, teeth... it could catch him and rip him to pieces if it wanted. It was probably only interested in knowing his name so it could go after relatives if it found him tasty.

Richter growled to himself, frustrated as the boy sat there and did little more than whimper. Was the boy deaf? Was he speaking too quietly? Did he mess up and pick the wrong language? Richter narrowed his eyes again, drawing closer, studying the boy, unaware that these movements made him look fierce and threatening.

Emil sobbed as the dragon got closer, looking like it would pounce on him at any moment. "P-p-please...", he wept, "d-don't hurt me."

Richter's eyes widened and he sat down, cocking his head and looking questioningly at the blond. He was shielding his face, shaking, making strange sounds. "That is not my intent." 

Emil cautiously peeled one eye open. "B-but... Aren't you going to eat me?" 

"Eat you?" Richter frowned. "Why would I do that? I have no desire to eat your kind." Richter cautiously crept closer. "You... smell alone... Are you?"  
  
"I... I _wh_ _-what?_ " Emil backed away a bit, not understanding the question, and still not trusting that the dragon was being honest when it said it didn't want to eat him. "Wh-what do you mean?"  
  
"Did you come here alone?" Richter stared intently at him.

"I... y-yessss?" Emil trembled, figuring it was no use lying if the dragon was going to eat him. If he lied and said there were others nearby, wouldn't the dragon just go and look for them and eat them too? His village wasn't that far after all. At least if the dragon thought he was alone, he might be able to protect his village...  
  
Richter softened his gaze. The boy came alone. That was reassuring. Strong as he was, he couldn't handle many humans at once, but with just one, he could keep things under control. "Alright. That is good." He purred. "So... you still haven't answered me. Who are you?"  
  
"I... I'd rather not say..." Emil gulped nervously. _Why would it care about my name?_

"I see. Well, that's fair, given that we've only just met. But, may I ask, why are you in the jungle? Are you lost? Don't your kin live in villages?"

"I... n-no, I'm not lost... I... live in a village a ways away, b-but... well, I came out here l-looking for pineapples." Again, Emil saw no reason to lie.  
  
The dragon looked puzzled. "Pineapples? What such things are pineapples?"  
  
Emil blinked. The beast could speak his language, surely it was joking about not knowing what pineapples were. "Th-they're... these things..." He gestured around himself at the grove of fruits. He gave the dragon an incredulous look. Was this some sort of ploy to get him to lower his guard? _Maybe he likes to play with his food?_  
  
Richter looked at the grove of plants and nodded. "I did not know that is what these sweet smelling things were called. What do you want them for?"  
  
"To m-make a cake."  
  
"What is a cake?" Richter asked, fascinated by this mysterious human's motivations.  
  
"It's... like a food. You eat it." Emil explained, now doubting that this was an act. The dragon seemed to be showing him genuine curiosity.

"You can eat these?" Richter bent down, sniffing and licking one of the fruits, leafy bush and all. "Bleh. They don't seem very tasty. "  
  
"Well, they do take some preparation." Emil simpered. "Firstly, you don't eat the whole plant, just the fruit." Emil gestured to the yellow cylindrical part.  
  
Richter nodded. "I see." He wrapped his tongue around the spiny fruit, chomped off the stalk, twisted it around in his mouth and swallowed it down whole. "It still isn't very good. It's like eating a thorny rock."

"W-well, you aren't supposed to eat it whole, e-either." Emil stuttered. "Y-you're supposed to chew it a-and --" the dragon wrapped his tongue around a second one, intending to take the boy's advice and chew it, but Emil had other ideas. "No, no! J-just wait. It's n-not just as simple as chewing it! It has to be ripe and peeled and cored! L-let me prepare one for you, o-okay? 

Richter let go of the pineapple he had been intending to eat, watching the boy intently as he went about searching for a suitable pineapple.

Emil, though he tried not to show it, was positively frantic. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was still considering the possibility that the dragon was toying with him, trying to get him to let his guard down, but the more present part of himself was determined to find some way to appease the looming crimson threat, hoping to convince it to leave him be and let him go. He sniffed around, trying to find the largest, sweetest, ripest pineapple he could. After passing on a few, he found one he thought would be suitable.

He took his knife and severed the fruit from its stem, carefully slicing the top off and dragging the knife down along the outside, removing the tough skin. He ran grooves along the remaining thorny places, carving helices into the yellow fruit. Finally, he chopped off the bottom and gouged out the woody core, leaving only the soft, tart flesh. "Th-there, that should do it." Emil gulped nervously, holding up the pineapple.  
  
The dragon bowed his head, opening his maw wide. Emil couldn't help but stare. Teeth. So many teeth. He gulped nervously, staring down the business end of what was a very dangerous beast. He took a deep breath, walking a little closer, and tossed the fruit in on top of the long forked tongue. The jaws snapped shut, and a slight squelching could be heard. Emil held his breath, wondering what would happen next. Emil had always heard that dragons were carnivorous monsters that ate farmer's cattle in the night, gobbled up a shepherd's entire flock in one bite, or devoured brave knights - armor and all - without thought. He had no idea why this one was so interested in trying pineapple, but he wasn't about to argue with it. He just hoped that the dragon wouldn't get angry if he didn't like it. What a dreadful thought...

The blond watched apprehensively as the beast chewed, breathing hard and sweating profusely. _Please don't eat me, please don't eat me..._  
  
Richter's eyes widened and he let out a low purr, barely noticing that the human jumped back with fright at the sound. It was one of the tastiest things he'd ever had! His eyes glittered happily and his tail thumped the ground, licking his scaly lips appreciatively. "It has a very strong flavor! I am pleasantly surprised! Not bad for a thorny rock! Quite soft too!"

"G-glad you liked it." Emil heaved a sigh of relief. "I d-didn't think dragons ate f-fruits."

"Your kind sure does use strange words. 'Dragon' is what you call my kind, then?" Emil nodded in response, too nervous to ask what he called his kind. "And fruits are like pineapple?"  
  
"Y-yes..." Emil nodded again. "Fruits are... g-generally s-sweet plant products. P-pineapple is just one kind of fruit. Th-there are s-s-sweeter kinds."  
  
Richter perked up. "More sweet things? I would like to try, if you could show me."

Emil didn't feel like he had much of a choice. He opened his backpack and pulled out a handful of lychees. "Th-these need to be prepared, too..." He muttered, using his knife to remove the skins and pits just in case. "These are called l-lychees." He held them out to Richter, tossing them into his mouth when he again opened wide, expecting to be served.  
  
His reaction was much the same as the first time. He let out a happy purr and thumped his tail, baring his sharp teeth in a wide grin. "Even more tender, with a lovely sweetness. I am pleased." He stretched, lying on his stomach, still eyeing the boy curiously. "So... I can understand why you are here now. These 'fruits' of yours seem worth the effort of getting, but I would still like to know a bit more about you. Tell me, what does your kind call themselves?"  
  
"H-huh?" Emil looked perplexed. "Wh-what do you mean?"  
  
"My kind has called your kind 'mortalis' for as long as I can remember. Is that still what you are referred to as?"  
  
"Oh, n-no, I don't think so." Emil bit his lip. "I think the word you might want here is 'human'?"

"Human... I see." The dragon nodded. "Strange titles you have for things, though the words you use for actions seem largely based on the old tongue. Or, at least, the few most common old tongues." Richter rocked his head side to side, his version of shrugging, and then continued. "So... why do you stand? Would you not be more comfortable as I am?"  
  
Emil stuttered a moment, unable to think up a protest and reluctantly sat down. "Didn't think of it, I guess." He mumbled. Really, he just wanted to go home... but he was too polite for his own good.  
  
"So... you live in a village, then? Are there many other humans?"  
  
"Some." Emil confirmed. "I don't really know what you would consider 'many'."

"I see. Do you have many kin?"

"No, not especially. J-just my aunt and uncle."  
  
"You have no parents or brethren?"

"No. M-my parents died when I was younger, and I n-never had siblings."

The dragon cocked his head. "Why did they die?"  
  
"There was a fire." Emil looked away, saddened by the memory.  
  
"Humans are vulnerable to fire? I did not know this." Richter frowned. He honestly had a very limited experience with humans. He knew humans were the closest beings to his own kind, capable of sentient thought, engineering, language, and many other extraordinary things, but he had no clue just how much they differed. "Why did they not come back? Did they not care about you anymore?"  
  
Emil looked back at Richter, squinting, unable to understand what he meant. "C-come back? They _died_. You don't come back from dying."  
  
"No. You can come back as long as you want to." Richter shook his head, not understanding the impasse. To him, the truth of life and death was far different from Emil's.

"I think... maybe we have a misunderstanding here. The way I'm talking about death seems fundamentally different from what you're talking about. Maybe, I should explain a human life, and then you can explain a dragon's?"  
  
Richter nodded. "Yes, please enlighten me."  
  
"See, humans are born to a mother and father. We typically live for 80 years or so unless something causes us to die, like a fire or a disease, and then we... well we die, and that's about it... some people think that our essence, or soul... the thing that makes us unique, whatever you'd call it... some people think that continues on to an afterlife, but... well, nobody knows... but nobody comes back here from that. Nobody comes back to this world..." Emil smiled sadly.  
  
Richter's eyes were wide, able to understand, but not able to believe what he was told. "Nobody returns? That's... very sad." The dragon frowned. "For us, we are born to a dam and a sire. I believe I recall hearing your kind refers to us as 'immortal' but that's not necessarily the case... We can be killed, and there are distant limits of age, but we are... well, we are the only ones who can end our existence with finality." He explained. "We have... well, a sort of, what your kind might call... 'magic'? Is that the word?" Emil nodded, confirming that it seemed to fit the context he was going for. "Well, this magic grants us many abilities while living, and a few while dying. The greatest of these dying magics is... well, what you might call a swan song? I do not know if that is the right term but... In our dying moments, we may make a wish of sorts. And our wish is carried out. A wish may have multiple parts, but the more significant the change required by the fulfillment of the wish, the fewer parts of the wish may be fulfilled. For example, I might wish to come back to life, but with different scales. This is entirely possible as changing our color is a very simple task while returning takes much more magic. However, I could not wish to return and wish for another dragon to be dead simultaneously, as killing another dragon would be a monumental task. All dragons have at least enough magic in their veins, from birth, to resurrect. Power beyond that requires a dragon to live for a long time, uninterrupted, and requires significant practice in our more basic magics. In this way, the only conceivable way for our kind not to resurrect is they must either not wish to come back, they must have been killed so quickly that they could not make their wish - the least likely of all the possibilities, but entirely possible - or they must have performed an 'end song' and given up their ability to resurrect for a more potent swan song."  
  
Emil gaped, wide eyed. That _basically_ made dragons immortal, since killing them in any permanent sense would require exceptional skill or for the dragon to be willing to die in the first place. That said, he was surprised the planet wasn't swarming with dragons. "If you basically can't die without wanting to... why aren't there more dragons here?"

Richter smiled. "I wondered about that when I was young and my dam resurrected. I asked why there are so few of us here if we can come back. As it turns out, many of us get bored here. It is a relatively small planet, which frankly doesn't have enough resources to sustain a large number of us without us constantly resurrecting and replenishing the resources. Your kind, also, has demonized and vilified us for millennia, making living alongside you... shall we say... _difficult_. So, many of our kind have moved beyond this planet, to others that can better sustain us. So far, we haven't heard of any other planets with creatures like your kind, yet, but the universe is a vast place. Many are glad not to have more like you, but personally, I enjoy this planet, and I find you humans... intriguing."

This all sounded _way_ too absurd for Emil to believe. _Space dragons. Actual space dragons, all over the universe._ "So you can just... fly through space?" Emil asked incredulously.  
  
"That's right." Richter nodded. "Though it's not very fun. Transitioning from your oxygen rich atmosphere to low density concentrations of hydrogen is very difficult. That's why many dragons avoid coming here anymore. It is difficult to acclimate to and difficult to leave."  
  
"So... where do dragons originate from, anyway?" Emil asked, curiously. "Do you... come from here?"  
  
The dragon shook its head. "No. Though I personally was born here, my kind originated from a planet far beyond. Your kind probably doesn't have a name for our ancestral home. My family called it Sphaera Vitae, thought the true name would be impossible for you to speak. Our language was far different from any of yours."  
  
"I see." Emil nodded. Suddenly he noticed that he was much less afraid, much more willing to talk to this creature, this fearsome, giant beast. He was becoming _curious_. "So, uh, how _do_ you speak our language then? I'm surprised we can communicate at all."

Richter simpered. "Actually, considering how long I've been alive, I should be able to speak and understand you better. My kind, like yours, possesses a very high intellect. And since we live far longer, we have more time to learn things. My parents can speak every human language fluently, you know. However, I haven't seen them in a while, and I haven't interacted with humans for just as long, so I'm afraid my abilities have atrophied."  
  
"That's amazing." Emil gasped. "I can't imagine knowing every possible language."

"Well, it does take centuries of practice." Richter chuckled. "Now that I know your kind doesn't resurrect, I understand it's just a lack of experience rather than stubbornness that creates a language barrier between your kind."  
  
"No. I'm sure a good deal of it is stubbornness." Emil simpered. "I know a lot of people who would rather that everyone else learned their language instead of having to learn the other's language instead."  
  
"Well, you know your own kind better than I do, I guess." Richter rocked his head again. "So... what does your kind do in their short lifespan, then?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Emil cocked his head.  
  
"You know... what do you do to pass the time? What do you do for social interaction?"

"Oh, uh... do you mean me personally, or in general?"

"Both... or either... whichever." Richter rocked his head, picking at a pineapple, doing his best to skin and core it with his claws.

"W-well... M-most people get jobs. That takes up a significant amount of our days and lives. Hobbies, too. I... I enjoy cooking, umm... c-crafts...  th-this is going over your head, huh?" Emil simpered, noticing the dragon's expression growing progressively more and more confused.  
  
"Yes." Richter arched his eyebrows. "To begin with, what is a 'job'?"

"Oh, right... I guess you wouldn't know much about jobs, would you. You're lucky." Emil sighed, envying the laid-back lifestyle the other must have. "A job is... Well, it's a task you perform on a routine basis. Typically the task involves making something or providing some kind of service to someone else and in return you get money." Emil explained, thinking ahead and deciding he ought to clarify what money was. "Money is used to trade for others' goods and services. Basically, rather than doing everything we'd need to do to survive independently, we specialize in tasks that help the whole community to survive. Does that make sense?"

The dragon nodded. "That sounds... rather dull though, doing the same things day in and day out. While my kind does specialize in some tasks, we're perfectly self-sufficient, and we have no such thing as 'money'. We trade goods and services directly."

Emil bobbed his head, indicating that he understood. "Bartering. We used to do that long ago, but it became impractical, especially when it came to perishable goods. Money served as a way of standardizing exchanges of goods."

The dragon chuffed. "Well, whatever suits your kind, I suppose." He munched on a few pineapples he had sloppily skinned and cored. "So, then, what is a hobby?"

"Ah, well, a hobby is an activity you do for enjoyment. Sometimes it's like a job, where you produce something, but you do it for yourself, for your own pleasure. Some people do make money with their hobbies, too. But you don't necessarily have to make something for a hobby. For me, I like cooking, but I also enjoy reading."

"Cooking... is the preparation of foods, yes?" Richter's green eyes shone at the idea. He enjoyed eating very much, so anything to do with food sounded like his cup of tea. "And this reading... if I understand correctly, reading is when you decipher your written language or pictures to make meaning, yes?"

"Yes, basically. Right on both counts. Though reading more typically involves written language, I suppose pictures do count as well."

Richter smiled. "I enjoy reading, though I don't have access to many texts, whether from my kin or yours."

"I didn't know you could read." Emil blinked.

"Of course I can read!" The dragon puffed a bit of smoke, frowning indignantly. "My parents taught me, just as yours must have."

"S-sorry." Emil simpered, feeling silly for having made that assumption. "I just... w-well I wouldn't have... I mean..." Emil tried to think of a good way to phrase what he was thinking, but everything he thought of sounded rude. He just honestly couldn't wrap his head around learning to read properly outside of a school setting. Though he was sure his parents taught him the basics, he only remembered learning to formally read at school, and while it made sense that his parents could have continued teaching him without schooling, he just couldn't imagine what that experience would be like, especially not as a dragon.

"No. It is fine." Richter shook his head. "We know little about each other, so it's only natural for us to not understand each other's way of life. That's why we're asking questions, isn't it?"  
  
Emil nodded. "Yeah, I guess."

"So... you also mentioned something about... 'crafting'? That has a rather broad definition, as far as I know."

"Ah." Emil cradled his chin pensively. "I guess I'm using it rather broadly as well, then. Crafting is... when you make something, generally, but when I say crafting I mean... well, woodworking, sculpting, drawing, painting, those kinds of things."

"Wow!" Richter's eyes brightened. "So you do all that! Craftsmanship is something I have admired about humans."

"R-really?" Emil's eyes brightened as well. True, the dragon may not have been talking about him specifically, but Emil felt the praise on a personal level. He took pride in his crafts, even when his aunt and uncle deemed them a waste of time; and for such a - dare he say it? - _majestic_ creature to admire him and his kind for the work they did made Emil even more proud of what little skill he had.

"Yes, really!" Richter wagged his tail excitedly. "I collect many of your kind's finely crafted wonders."

"Collect?" Emil asked. "How do you mean?"  
  
"Exactly what I said! I salvage things from old ruins and wrecks. Some very nice things would go to waste otherwise." Richter chuffed, his chest glowing a bit. "Would you like to see?"

"Uh, I g-guess so. Sure!" Emil nodded.

"Alright, wait right here." The dragon rose, lumbering back to its cave, chest still glowing, reflecting light across the walls of the cavern and the contents within. Emil could make out silhouettes of larger items like book cases and wardrobes and what looked like a church organ while the red dragon rummaged through piles of things Emil could not make out at that distance.

Then it struck him. Why wasn't he leaving? This was a _dragon_ after all. He should be itching to leave as he was before, shaking with fear and pumping with adrenaline, ready to bound off as soon as an opportunity to escape presented itself. And yet, all sensation of terror had left him. For some reason he didn't feel threatened any more. It wasn't so much that he trusted the beast, but... they seemed to have a mutual understanding. He was beginning to see the dragon as more than a beast. As fearsome as it might look, it was a person, and quite a bit more friendly than the people of his village at that. Emil supposed, in a way, his own loneliness now kept him from fleeing. For once, someone was taking a genuine interest in him, and he could talk and be heard and felt validated for once. It had been a very long time since he'd felt that.

Shortly, the dragon returned, delicately carrying a bundle in its claws. "These are some of my favorites from my collection." Pearlescent teeth shone in a wide grin as the dragon gently set down the bundle, unfurling it to reveal the contents. He nudged the various items to each of the corners, displaying the center of the cloth, which turned out to be a scrap of tapestry. The colors were very muted from age and wear, but Emil could make out a floral design around the borders, and the remnants of a scene depicting what appeared to be a king and queen holding a baby between them.

"This was hanging on the wall of an old ruined castle close to my old home." The dragon purred. "Unfortunately, a lot of the rest burned away and the colors have faded, but the image is still beautiful." Emil agreed. "Feel free to pick through them. Gently of course." Richter smiled, watching Emil ogling his little trove of treasures.

The first thing to catch Emil's attention was a stone tablet with a relief of a dragon carved into it. Emil smiled, dusting it off a bit. "Hehe, this one has a picture of you on it."

Richter chuckled. "Indeed. I am rather fond of human depictions of us. It's quite amusing, actually. You either draw us gloriously or hideously."

Emil giggled. "I guess that's true. Probably because most people are too scared to stick around you long enough to draw a portrait."

"Or too enthralled in our majesty to do anything less than an idyllic representation." Richter snorted.

"Maybe." Emil grinned. "How often do humans and dragons interact, I wonder?"

"Oh, I'm sure it varies. You're not the first human I've seen, but it's been a while since I've spoken with your kind. Hence the language barrier."

"Makes sense, I guess." Emil shrugged, turning over a tarnished but bejeweled goblet, inspecting the intricate designs. "How long have you lived here?"

"A few hundred years, I think." Richter rocked his head, thinking. "Long time, even for me, but the island was uninhabited when I got here, so--"

"Oh, so at least 300 years, then." Emil nodded. "That's about how long humans have inhabited this island."

"That sounds about right." Richter grunted, scratching at his hip. "Three hundred years is a long time for your kind, huh?"

"Very." Emil nodded. But if the dragon had been on the island that long, then... "How come nobody's ever seen you before? Small island, and thousands of people exploring it over hundreds of years, surely somebody would have come by here before."

"Cloaking spells mostly." Richter sighed, flicking away the molt stuck to his claws. "That and I usually only come out at night to hunt."

"Then... how come _I_ found you?"

"Honestly? I got lazy, sloppy..." The dragon chuffed, scooting toward a nearby tree. "Been molting for a few weeks... makes it hard to sleep well... hard to keep up spell maintenance." Richter grunted, puffing black smoke from his nostrils as he rubbed his hip against the tree. "Nobody comes around here much, didn't bother keeping hidden, didn't think anyone would-- CURSE THESE BLOODY SCALES!" He roared angrily, rubbing vigorously against the tree.

Emil jumped back at the sudden outburst but was quick to recover. "W-what's the matter?"

"Itchy!" The red reptilian growled, scraping the offending spot on a nearby rock when the tree held no avail. "Blasted molt just won't come _off!_ " He hissed, a few crackling embers gushing from between his teeth.

Emil, sympathizing with the other's plight, recalling occasions when he'd gotten bug bites between his shoulder blades and had no one there to help scratch them, offered his assistance. "H-hold still. Maybe I can d-do something." Richter hunkered down, gnashing his teeth in frustration, but Emil still approached, knowing the gesture was not aimed at him. He stood on tiptoe, able to see where the dragon's scales grew paler, rough edges indicating the boundaries of the peeling skin. It extended a bit beyond his reach so, mustering his courage, he clambered up the other's leg, scaly skin shuddering beneath him, revealing the dragon's sensitivity. Perched on top of the red beast, Emil had a clearer view of the rough patch he had offered to deal with. Much of it was loose and ready to peel off, but upon closer inspection, a small portion of it was embedded under another row of scales, bunched up in places, slipping between some scales, pushing them up and apart at unnatural angles.

"Looks like it's stuck between your scales." Emil relayed his observations, scooting a bit closer to the problem area. "I'll see if I can pull it out." The dragon nodded, groaning miserably as it waited. Emil grabbed a loose end closest to the heart of the mess and began tugging. At first, nothing happened, but a few strong tugs slowly got it moving. Then Emil noticed something else. A thin strand of fibrous material peeked out from under the scales he'd just dislodged the molting skin from. "Hang on... there's something else here..." He reached out to touch it. "It's... like cloth..." He tugged on it and the dragon chuffed, making a garbled whining noise.

"Itchyyyyyy!" Richter whimpered, feeling the human tugging at his molt and whatever else was wedged under his scales. "P-pull it out!"

Emil stuttered out an assurance that he was doing so, and began working both substances out from between the ruby red scales. After unwinding few knots and tangles in the cloth-like substance, Emil felt the whole mass giving way. He grabbed the wrinkled skin and cloth and gave the whole lot a mighty tug, finally dislodging it from the dragon's scales. The beast groaned and purred happily, thumping its tail delightedly. "That's _much_ better." It sighed, puffing little clouds of white smoke from its nostrils. "Thank you, human."

"N-no problem." Emil nodded, sliding off, taking the offending skin and cloth with him. "This is it... whatever it is..." He held up the fraying cloth bit, parts of it still entangled in the dead skin.

The dragon sniffed it, growling to itself. "Hmph, must be from that linen thing in my nest... I'll need to throw that away if it's going to get wedged in my scales..."

"Does that happen often? S-stuff getting caught in your scales, I mean."

"Not really, actually. This is the first time..." Richter shook his head, laying back down beside his assortment of treasures again. "It's not uncommon for my molts to be a little stubborn coming off, but this is the first time one's gotten stuck."

"I see." Emil nodded, tossing the skin and cloth aside. "I'm glad I don't molt, then." He snickered.

"You don't molt? Then how do you grow?" Richter cocked his head.

"We do shed skin, but little bits every day, usually. But our skin grows with us, so we don't have to molt like you do. Our skin stretches, unlike scales."

"Lucky." Richter snorted, puffing a small flame at his shed skin, lighting the molt and cloth on fire, reducing them both to ash in a nanosecond.

Emil chuckled again, turning over various other artifacts in his hands as he returned to Richter's collection. He caught himself squinting and realized why. The sun was beginning to set. "W-wow. I didn't notice how late it was already."

"Mmm? Oh." Richter looked up at the sky, noticing it glowing with a pale orange. "Yes, for a diurnal creature, it _is_ getting late. Though for me, this is about the time that I wake up."

"I-I should probably go." Emil simpered walking back to his things. "Um, i-it was nice m-meeting you... uh..." Emil realized, as he tried to bid the dragon farewell, that he had no idea what its name was. "I'm sorry. Wh-what should I call you?"

"Me?" Richter blinked. "No one's ever asked for my name before." He thought for a moment. "I suppose I can't give you my true name, though even my parents rarely called me that... I guess you can call me Richter. My parents thought that name would suit me. They were actually quite fascinated with your naming systems. I've had many names, but they preferred that one, so Richter it is, I suppose."

"Alright, Richter." Emil nodded. "Th-thank you for t-talking with me."

Emil was about to walk away when Richter stopped him. "Didn't you want to take home these... uh... pie... pine... um...?"

"Oh, the pineapples!" Emil exclaimed, striking his forehead with the palm of his hand. "That's right. I came all the way here after all." He pulled out his knife and shrugged off his backpack again, picking his way through the grove, taking the freshest and ripest he could find. With his backpack brimming full, he once again tried to set off on his way. "W-well, goodbye, then, Richter."

"Are you going to come back?"

"H-huh?"

"Are you going to come back here sometime?"

"Oh, um, I don't know... maybe?" Emil rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. He honestly hadn't thought about coming back again. Not that he didn't want to but it wasn't exactly at the forefront of his mind.

"When?"

"I, uh, haven't really thought about it. When I have time, I guess."

"Please do. I'd like to finish showing you my collection." Richter's eyes shone hopefully.

"Y-yeah, sure. Okay. That sounds... nice." Emil nodded, backing away, doing his best to excuse himself. He really needed to leave while it was still light out. "Okay, then, next time..." He waved.

"Hey... How about I take you home?"

"Do what now?" Emil paused, turning back toward the dragon.

"How about I take you home?" Richter beamed at the little human, wagging his tail eagerly. "It'll be dark out soon. You have a lot to carry, and I wouldn't want you getting hurt or attacked by an animal. You can't come back soon if you get hurt, right?" The dragon packed his little collection together and hurried it back to his cave, stowing it quickly away before returning.

"Th-that's okay! R-really. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you or anything." Emil simpered, trying to make an excuse. He really didn't think having a dragon escort was the best idea. He had no idea what Richter might do if he found where the village was. As friendly as he seemed, Emil still didn't entirely trust him, and even if Richter honestly didn't like to eat humans, there were plenty of other things he might enjoy eating that would greatly inconvenience the townsfolk. That, and Emil was already generally disliked by the community. Being seen with a dragon would _certainly_ make him more of an outcast than before.

Unfortunately for Emil, his excuse didn't work. "Nonsense! It's no inconvenience at all!" Emil froze, practically wetting himself as the dragon bounded up to him, scooping him up in its claws. The red giant charged toward a clearing, and before Emil had the chance to properly dread what he realized was coming, the beast leaped into the air, spread its wings, and soared off.

Emil whimpered, too terrified to even scream as the ground became considerably further away than he would have liked it. He clung frantically to Richter, wanting desperately to close his eyes, but being unable to look away for fear that the world would just _disappear_ if he did. Then he realized something else. While he was comfortably wrapped in the dragon's claws, he could see _everything around him._ This added an entirely new level of terror now that he could not only see everything directly below him through the dragon's transparent claws, but he had no way of keeping track of any part of Richter. The dragon could drop him or gobble him up without him even seeing it coming. Emil had never known fear like this before, and every ounce of his strength was focused on not passing out, relinquishing what very little control he actually had in his ability to hang on to his invisible "chauffeur".

Richter, on the other hand, was entirely oblivious to his passenger's fears, and flew the short distance between his home and the human village on the coast. He circled overhead, looking for a good spot to descend. "Well, human, where do you live? I'll see if I can find a place nearby to land."

Emil flinched, startled out of his catatonic state when he heard his name. He summoned what very little spare strength he had and screamed. "I don't care _where_ you land, just put me _down!_ "

Richter blinked confusedly at the human's request, but did not argue, gliding down to a bit of beach a ways away from the village, just around a curve in the border of the jungle where he could become visible again. He touched down and lowered his forelimbs, opening his claws and letting Emil stumble out.

The blond trembled, barely able to wobble his way out of the dragon's claws before he collapsed in the sand. He had never been more scared in his entire life. His heart was racing, his head was spinning, but he was back on solid ground, a comfort that let him deal with his feelings now that survival didn't seem to be an issue. His shoulders heaved and his eyes watered, sobbing where he sat.

Richter noticed the unusual sounds and the human's failure to leave, despite seeming to be in a hurry moments ago, and bent down, trying to discern the problem. "What's wrong, human? Did you hurt yourself?" Emil shook his head, sobbing harder. Richter frowned. "Did _I_ hurt you?" Emil shook his head again, harder. "I do not understand. What's the matter?"

Emil wept, tears pouring from his eyes, still so frightened. "Y-you... I-I-I... Wh-why did...? I j-just..." Emil broke down, sobbing heavily, hiccuping and gasping for breath. "You sh-should have _warned_ me you were going to fly me home! I'm t-t- _terrified_ of heights! I w-was afraid you might _drop_ me! And th-then you turned invisible and I had n-no idea what you were going to do and I just..." Emil couldn't even finish, breaking down into muffled crying again.

Richter's eyes widened. He was so used to flying, found such joy and calm in it, that he hadn't even thought the small human might be afraid. His eyes soften and he crouched beside the boy, purring gently. "No, no, little human, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please stop making the water from your eyes."

"I c-can't h-help it." Emil bawled, wiping his tears on the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry." Richter sighed. He offered what he thought was a comforting lick to the boy's cheek, but the action earned him a panicked scream instead of calming the human.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Emil shrieked, scrambling backward when he felt the hot, moist tongue on his face.

"Trying to make the water stop." Richter cooed. "I just want you to not be scared."

"W-well it's not working!" Emil cried, trembling as he eyed the dragon suspiciously. "Y-you're making things _worse!_ "

Richter shrank back, whimpering sadly. "I'm sorry. I'll... I'll go away if you want me to..."

"I think that would b-be best..." Emil sniffled.

Richter's heart sank, but he nodded, backing away from the human and preparing to leave.

"So... w-will you still come back?"

Emil gritted his teeth. Richter had been fairly kind to him thus far, but Emil hadn't been sure about returning before this incident, and he was even less certain now. "I'll think about it..." He mumbled.

"Please do." Richter whispered. "Please come back..." Without another word, the red dragon sprang into the air, and vanished, leaving Emil alone on the beach.


	2. Delving Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emil bakes a cake, does a little research on Dragons, and goes to work. Just a normal day, yep, nothing out of the ordinary at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter's taken a while but this is the second thing I've posted this month and I'm fucking thrilled about it. Finished this for a friend whose birthday is today. Not sure if they want it publicized when their birthday is so this friend shall remain nameless. I hope they, as well as all of you, enjoy!

When Emil finally got home, he was exhausted. It hardly seemed worth the effort anymore, but his aunt and uncle would be home the next day, so if he didn't bake the cake now, he wouldn't get to later. He trudged to the kitchen where he'd set out most of his ingredients already, just before he had taken what he thought was going to be a short trip into the jungle. Butter, brown sugar, granulated sugar, flour, baking powder, salt, nutmeg, eggs, milk, vanilla extract, maraschino cherries, and now, finally, pineapple. He had everything he needed. He preheated the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and began working.  
  
Emil turned on a burner, setting a metal baking pan on top of it. He melted a half stick of butter in the pan and then took it off the heat, stirring in a half cup of packed brown sugar, making a thick, golden paste. Next he prepared the pineapple, skinning, coring, and slicing it into rings. He arranged the juicy yellow rings along the bottom of the pan, nestling them in the warm butter and sugar, already starting to feel calmer. Cooking had always soothed him. He opened the jar of maraschino cherries and placed one in the center of each pineapple ring, snacking on a few before returning the jar to the fridge.  
  
He placed the leftover pineapple rings in the blender with a bit of orange juice and set the machine whirring, creating a golden nectar-like substance. He poured it into a measuring cup through a sieve, managing to strain out most of the pulp. He pressed the remainder against the mesh with a spoon, squeezing out the last of the liquid before he dumped the pulp into the little compost heap just beyond the backdoor. He poured away the excess liquid into a glass until he had a half cup remaining, happily sipping the extra as he kept cooking.  
  
He rinsed the blender, knowing it was best to clean up after himself as he went, and then pulled out two large mixing bowls. In the first, he dumped two cups of all-purpose flour, two teaspoons of baking powder, a half teaspoon of salt, and an eighth of a teaspoon of ground nutmeg. He whisked the dry ingredients together carefully, setting them aside once blended to work on the wet ingredients.  
  
He moved on to the second bowl, dumping in a whole stick of butter (softened as the recipe said, if a bit melted thanks to his longer-than-planned trip, but it would do) and a cup of granulated sugar. He beat them together for two minutes before adding in the two eggs. Once they were blended he added in half the flour mixture and mixed the wet and dry ingredients thoroughly. He then added the reserved pineapple juice along with a half cup of milk and whisked again. Finally, he added in the last of the flour mixture and a teaspoon of vanilla extract, mixing one last time until everything was incorporated.  
  
He poured the batter into the pan over the pineapple, being careful not to let the batter disrupt the pattern of fruit at the bottom. He used a rubber spatula to get most of the batter out, unable to resist a little lick of the remainder, before he popped the cake into the oven and set the timer for 40 minutes. He set to work cleaning up the area, wiping up the few tiny "spills" where pineapple juice had sprinkled during the cutting process, and giving the dirty dishes a thorough cleaning.  
  
Finally, in preparation for the cake, he pulled a chilled bowl of heavy cream from the refrigerator, placing it in a slightly larger bowl filled with ice water. He added in a third of a cup of powdered sugar and a pinch of salt and began whisking vigorously. Eventually, the cream held firm peaks, and Emil set the cream aside, awaiting the ding of the timer. He didn't have to wait long. The timer sounded and he tugged on his oven mitts, carefully removing the pan from the oven and setting it on the burner. He inserted a toothpick, and it came out clean. Another perfect cake. Emil smiled, breathing in the sweet smell of his culinary creation. He let it cool, preparing the baking sheet he would put it on once it was done. He set a plate for himself, grabbing a book and reading a bit while he waited. He sipped his juice, flipping through a few pages before he was sure the cake was ready. He marked his place in the book, setting it aside, and went back to the kitchen. He placed the baking sheet over the cake and flipped the entire thing over, slowly pulling the baking pan off, revealing a beautifully browned top, shimmering with moist pineapples and cherries. He smiled, looking over his work before cutting himself a slice. With a generous dollop of whipped cream, his dessert was complete. He returned to the table, opening his book again and indulging in his sweet treat. He savored the unparalleled sweetness and tartness. Pineapple had always been one of his favorite fruits.  
  
He sat in silence, lost in his book, nibbling on his cake until he was satisfied. He was calm, and he had nearly forgotten the fearful moments of the day. Nearly. But once he had finished the last chapter of his book, he was left alone with his thoughts. And he kept thinking back to Richter. He really didn't know how to feel about the encounter. There was fear, joy, curiosity, admiration, awe, a bit of envy, and a sliver of hope. Emil had a hard time making friends, but once he and Richter started talking... it became so much easier. Being asked questions with sincere interest, being listened to when he explained things, just having that genuine interaction was something he'd missed. That kind of contact had drastically declined when his parents had died, and had dropped off completely when he graduated high school. His aunt and uncle only ever spoke to him if he'd done something 'wrong'. Or when they wanted to use him for something.  
  
So there was a part of Emil that ached to go back to be with Richter. He'd almost forgotten the sound of his own voice, given how infrequently he actually got to talk. But at the same time, he was terrified of going back. A little voice inside him told him he was lucky to even be alive now. Richter was a dragon, plain and simple. He was a dangerous, volatile beast. His entire body was a weapon, and he had unfathomable magic powers. He was unpredictable, and Emil knew so little about him and his abilities. That alone was scary enough. So he was conflicted. Should he go back? Or should he try to forget about the red beast lurking in the jungle? Even if he never went back, forgetting didn't seem possible.  
  
He sighed, returning to the kitchen to clean up the last of his mess. He washed the baking pan and wrapped the leftover cake with saran-wrap, sliding it into the fridge along with the whipped cream. He tried to hide it in the back, crowding some of the lesser-used items in front of it in the hopes of keeping his aunt and uncle from gorging themselves on it. As much as they complained about his presence in general, they never complained when they were eating something he took the time to make.  
  
He shook his head, knowing they'd probably find it anyway, and walked upstairs. He took a quick shower, deciding he'd probably go to bed soon. He slipped into some cozy pajamas and hunkered down in bed, picking up his laptop. He had very limited use of it, given that any time his aunt and uncle saw him on it, they went off about him being lazy and pestered him to do something else. They were also in the habit of turning off the internet router if they felt like he had been on too long. He also only had conditional ownership of it, since they bought it for him when the one his parents had bought him finally gave out. The condition? They performed weekly inspections, checking everything from his browser history to his documents. He was forbidden from having social media accounts, and the only emails he was allowed to send or receive were to very specific friends. This would have been good enough for Emil if it wasn't for the fact that all of his friends were in college and rarely had time to talk with him.  
  
He would have been in college himself if he could afford it, but his aunt and uncle refused to pay for it. They always said "If you want to go, you need to pay your way." He did have a college fund and inheritance from his parents, but he was holding onto that, hoping to save enough to move out, away from his abusive relatives. But the cost of living on an island like this was quite high, and he had no one to split expenses with. All his friends were in college, and they all lived in dorms. So he really didn't have much of a choice for now.  
  
All he had was a part-time job at the local grocer and the monthly market where he sold his crafts. He didn't earn much, but he was slowly growing his savings so that one day, one day, he could be free. But for now, he was stuck debating with himself... What would Aunt Flora and Uncle Alba think? He chewed his lip, trying to imagine a worst-case scenario. Finally, he decided the worst thing they could do was yell at him for wasting time looking at such things, so he turned his laptop on, logged in, pulled up a search engine and typed in "Dragons". He sifted through articles and myths, looking for things that matched up with what Richter had said. He couldn't find much. Most of the articles were nonsense, and the mythology was dry and irrelevant. Finally, he decided to search for some of the things Richter had specifically confessed. The first thing that came to mind was "Sphaera Vitae", Richter's home. He typed it into the search engine, followed by a comma and the word "dragon" again, and pressed enter. The top result was a blog entry that made Emil's heart quicken.  
  
The blogger's screen-name was "Wyvern-tail-2000", and the entry chronicled what they described as an encounter with a dragon named Eve. The dragon was described as a pearly pink, with an anatomy similar to Richter's. Horned, quadrupedal, but capable of bipedal locomotion, scaly, winged, and able to use its forelimbs and claws with dexterity. The blogger described his meeting in great detail, how Eve had swooped down on the hillside where he had been painting, failing to notice him at the edge of the forest. The dragon had been carrying a couple of cows and had settled down to eat them when it noticed it was not alone. Wyvern-tail-2000 went on to recount a conversation he had with Eve about its origins. Just as Richter had said, Eve was also not the dragon's true name, but a given name based on the human naming system. Eve described dragon origins the same way as Richter had, but with a bit more detail, speaking of Sphaera Vitae and of space travel, of other dragons' tales.  
  
Though Wyvern-tail-2000 referred to Eve as feminine, describing "her" features as "gaunt", "smooth", and "beautiful", they made a point of clarifying that Eve expressed disdain for human gendered pronouns. Emil supposed it was a good thing he hadn't started thinking of Richter as a "he" then, since the dragon possessed more masculine characteristics, a deep voice, angular features, and of course, the gendered name.  
  
Wyvern went on to explain observations he'd made about Eve. Though the dragon did claim to prefer fresh meaty meals, Eve considered itself a gourmand who was quite fond of kimchi, pickled plums, sake, and other exotic dishes. (Or, relatively exotic since Wyvern's encounter occurred far from where such foods and drinks originated.) In a stroke of bravery that made Emil's heart skip, Wyvern claimed to have examined the beast's maw first-hand and observed molars and premolars, albeit distinctly sharper than the average human's, near the back of the dragon's mouth, consistent with the dentals of an omnivorous beast.  
  
Wyvern also observed what "appeared to be a voluntary muscle, similar to the epiglottis" at the back of the dragon's mouth, able to securely close off passage to the throat. When asked, Eve explained the organ's purpose was to prevent meals from "going down before they were ready". Wyvern stipulated that this meant dragons frequently enjoyed live meals, and the post-oral flap was meant to keep prey from choking the dragon. The dragon also demonstrated what Wyvern described as "two glottal openings" that the dragon could extend on either side of it's tongue, allowing it to breath when swallowing large meals. Emil could only imagine what would be large enough to require that technique. The only things he could think of were whales. Emil shuddered at the thought.  
  
He continued reading, his heart thumping hard in his chest. Eve described a dragon's specialized process of digestion. Since they did, in fact, frequently enjoy live meals, but were (self-professed, as Wyvern took the time to note) merciful and cultured beings, they had - through eons of magically aided evolution - developed a much gentler means of consuming prey. Some specific traits Eve mentioned were the voluntary sphincters - specifically the cardiac sphincter which would allow airflow to the stomach, preventing prey from suffocating - voluntary release of key digestive enzymes (or rather, key zymogens, as most enzymes are secreted as these inactive precursors) giving dragons the ability to delay digestion indefinitely - and most crucially, specialized digestive enzymes that acted as numbing, tranquilizing agents to ease prey into a gentle, painless, eternal sleep. Eve was even so "kind" as to demonstrate the veracity of its claims by devouring its meal of cattle, much to Wyvern's amazement. Though Wyvern noted that the lack of discernable suffering on the meal's part did in no way indicate absence of suffering, he was confident in his observations and felt that it was "safe to assume that Eve spoke the truth."  
  
Eve also spoke briefly about the efficiency of a dragon's digestive tract, explaining that despite consuming tremendous amounts of food, there was very little byproduct, and though they had a functioning excretory system, the rarely had bowel movements, primarily removing wastes through urination. _I suppose that's why the island isn't reeking with Richter's waste, then, despite living here for 300 years._ Emil thought, scrolling through a bit more of the blog.  
  
Wyvern asked several of the same questions Emil did, about where dragons came from, why they lived here (and why most didn't). Eve answered in much the same manner as Richter had, elaborating that though it was currently living on Earth, it didn't plan on staying. Eve was nearing the end of its days and with its dying wish, it planned on being reborn on a nearby planet, bypassing the strenuous task of leaving with its own strength and trying to acclimate to life beyond the atmosphere. Wyvern questioned Eve's ability to do this, asking how Eve planned to survive on uninhabited planets with no food or water. Eve explained; Eve knew it wouldn't be comfortable, especially having grown so accustomed to ingesting its energy source, but Eve, like all dragons, could absorb some solar energy and could breakdown minerals enough to get some sustenance from them. _So basically, Eve plans to photosynthesize and eat rocks..._ Emil couldn't imagine doing that. Even if he was able to eat like that, it didn't sound at all pleasant, and it didn't seem like there was much of a purpose to it. Why suffer like that just to get to another planet?  
  
Wyvern asked the same question. Wyvern noted the same head-rocking motion Richter had displayed as Eve answered. "Why do your kind travel? Boredom. Curiosity, Loneliness. Lack of resources. Your planet has become far too small for me, and I crave adventure. I am simply moving on."  
  
Wyvern never saw Eve again after that. He had gone back with a camera and some jars, hoping to collect samples and evidence, only to find that the place was deserted. He returned every night for a month, but Eve never returned. Wyvern lamented not having taken something from her as proof of the experience (or simply as a token to remember Eve by) and had done his best to sketch the dragon from memory. Such sketches littered the bottom of the entry. Though Wyvern lacked artistic skill, the sketches were reminiscent of Richter. Eve's horns were smaller, and seemed to be of a different shape (though that may have just been due to Wyvern's drawing skills) but Eve's head shape and general proportions largely resembled Richter's. Eve also appeared to have what looked like spiny neck frills which were absent in Richter, and had a sort of dewlap (though that may have been due to age rather than differing anatomy). Eve's dewclaws appeared shorter than Richter's, Eve's jaw and face were depicted slightly narrower, and its tongue was thinner with a deeper fork. It was hard to tell how many of the discrepancies were due to Wyvern's sub-par illustration skills, but overall, the sketches bore an uncanny resemblance to Richter.  
  
Below the illustration was a comment section. It made Emil's heart sink, but he couldn't say he was surprised. Comments ranged from "Nice story, would make for good fiction." to "You fucking crackpot. Dragons are impossible. They're called 'mythical' creatures for a reason. They don't exist. And you're making yourself look like a prankster that doesn't know when to quit - or worse, a candidate for the loony bin - when you keep trying to justify your absurd story. Especially without evidence. Give it up already before someone puts you in an asylum." There were combinations of the two, and many of the former devolved into the latter as Wyvern tried desperately to assert that it was all true.  
  
Emil's fingers hovered over the keyboard. He wanted to talk to someone about what he'd experienced that night. He wanted some confirmation that he wasn't going insane. As surreal as it felt to him, he knew he hadn't dreamt it. He had met a dragon that afternoon. But he hesitated. Uncle Alba and Aunt Flora would be able to see it. While he might be able to shrug this off as boredom or even research for a new crafting project, he wouldn't be able to explain away the comment he wanted to leave. Sure, they'd give him an earful anyway about wasting time and looking at mindless trivialities, but he was used to that. But he couldn't explain away even the first line of the response he wanted to leave. Alba and Flora were "practical", "no-nonsense" kind of people. Commenting on a "questionably sane" person's blog? Impractical and a waste of time. Leaving a sympathetic comment ironically? Even more impractical and a bigger waste of time. But a sincere, sympathetic comment claiming shared experience? He would never be able to stutter out an excuse to disguise its sincerity, and he knew where that would put him. In the loony bin with Wyvern. And if there was one thing Emil could imagine being worse than living with his aunt and uncle, it was living in an asylum. Or a "Mental Health" facility as they were euphemistically called. More like places to torture and ostracize neuro-atypical people...  
  
Emil sighed, resigning. He put the cursor over the X to close the window but stopped, an idea popping into his head. Emil was "forced" to cook his own meals (though the "force" aspect wasn't so much that it was against his will as it was the fact that Alba and Flora simply never cooked, let alone enough for him). Alba had once idly remarked that making Emil cook was character-building and taught him self-reliance and necessary life skills. While that was a fair point, Emil knew it was just a way for Alba to justify his neglect. Still, he enjoyed cooking, so he made the best of things. But, because he did all of his own cooking, Emil frequently printed out recipes; it was one of the very few things that Emil could do without restriction. Surely, they wouldn't notice if he printed this... especially on the back of a recipe. He dug a few recipes out of a folder he kept in his bookcase and took them downstairs. He fed them into the paper tray, and went back upstairs, selecting Wyvern's blog's contents, right-clicked, and clicked print. He heard the telltale clacking and whirring of the printer taking in the paper, and went back downstairs to wait. Thankfully the blog entry was not terribly long. He made sure to print the sketches at full size. He wanted to be able to refer to them later... especially if he ever went back to visit Richter.  
  
Once everything was finished, Emil switched the printer off and took his new reference material up to his room. Slipping the papers back in with his recipes, he went back to his computer. He took one last look at the demeaning comments and Wyvern's futile attempts to defend himself. "I believe you..." He whispered, closing the web page. He shut down his computer, tucking it away on the shelf beneath his nightstand, yawning, feeling positively exhausted. He hunkered down in bed, curling up beneath the covers. A few twists of the switch on his lamp extinguished the light, blanketing the room in darkness. Emil spent a few minutes thinking over the events of the day. A dragon. An actual, living dragon. A dragon that eats pineapple. If I hadn't seen it first-hand, I would never believe it.  
  
The blond sifted through his feelings about the experience. There was a deep, primal, visceral fear. Richter was an immense, imposing creature with unfathomable power. Immortal, capable of magic, capable of personal evolution on a scale mankind didn't even begin to approach. And yet, Emil could not deny an insatiable curiosity. He was probably one of only a handful of people lucky enough to have seen a dragon in person and carried on a conversation with it. Or maybe just one of the ones lucky enough to not get eaten... And Richter had been so friendly, so genuine, so innocent. There was something endearing about it. Emil was inexplicably drawn to this new being. Both drawn and repelled. Would he go back? Should he go back? He couldn't decide. _He wakes up at sundown, right? Maybe... maybe after work I could go back, just to see if it was real..._ Emil sighed, closing his eyes, letting himself drift off, mind swimming with uncertainty on the matter.  
  
Soon, however, his mind would be made up...  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
The next morning brought sheer chaos...  
"You little shit!" Alba bellowed, yanking the blond out of bed by the ear. "What the fuck are you trying to pull?!"  
  
"Aaaaah!" Emil awoke to a sharp pain as his uncle tore at his ear. "Wh-what are you--?! I-I-I... I didn't d-do anything!" The boy howled grasping at his uncle's hand, trying to pry it away from his ear, only for the older man to twist it hard.  
  
"Don't give me that crap! Can't we leave you alone for one day without you destroying something?!"  
  
"Wh-what did I destroy?!" Emil whined, tearing up as Alba yanked on his ear, almost certain it would rip off if he twisted any harder.  
  
"Don't you fucking play dumb with me!" Alba spat, tugging the blond downstairs and out onto the porch. "You seriously mean to tell me you have nothing to do with this?!"  
  
Emil's jaw dropped as he examined the street in front of their house. The dirt path from their porch to the main road and nearly all of their lawn was buried under mountains of pineapples.  
  
"Well, what do you have to say for yourself, brat?!" Abla growled, completely oblivious to the young adult's genuine shock at the sight.  
  
"I... I-I didn't do this!" Emil protested.  
  
"Oh really." Alba scowled, his tone more than skeptical. "Then I suppose you didn't bake that cake in the fridge either? Honestly, boy, how do you expect me to believe you when you're the only one around here who could do something like this?"  
  
That was a very good question, and one Emil didn't exactly have a ready answer to. Sure, he had a fairly good idea of where the pineapples had come from and who had brought them, but... well, he couldn't exactly say a dragon had done it and expect his uncle to believe him. He chewed his lip, refusing to answer. He wasn't going to lie, but there was no way he could tell the truth...  
  
"Tch... Pitiful whelp." Alba grunted, shoving Emil away as he released the blond's ear. "Can't even take responsibility for anything. Clean this mess up, then get your ass in gear. You have work today, don't you?"  
  
"Y-yes, Uncle Alba." Emil set to work, taking the pineapples a few at a time from the yard and piling them in the sand on the beach where Richter had dropped him off the night before. He stopped counting after about 200. He silently cursed at the dragon for causing him trouble like this. What on earth did Richter think that giving him all these pineapples would accomplish?  
  
_I could understand one or two. Maybe a dozen. But what exactly did he expect me to do with over 200?! Did he expect me to eat them all, or what?! Even if I was his size, I doubt I could manage this many without getting the runs._ Somewhere in his mind, Emil thought the offering was kind of sweet. No one had ever really brought him gifts. Not since his parents had died, anyway. But a larger part of himself was furious at the other. He didn't ask for this! It was more an inconvenience than a gift. And unlike the dragon, Emil couldn't just fly them all to a convenient location in a few trips. He was going to have to skip breakfast...  
  
*~*~*  
  
By the time Emil had finished cleaning up Richter's 'gift' he was exhausted. And 10 minutes late. He did his best to avoid eye contact with his uncle as he walked back in to change clothes.  
  
"Shouldn't you be at work already?" Alba growled as Emil walked past, eating a large slice of the pineapple upside down cake Emil had made. The blond knew better than to make a big deal of it. He would rather not have Alba chew him out about being ungrateful and making him even more late if he could help it.  
  
"I-I'm just going to ch-change c-clothes." He mumbled, hurrying up to his room to get into his "uniform". Nothing special, really, more of a dress code than a uniform: blue jeans or black pants and a while shirt. He checked himself in the bathroom mirror before he rushed down to the front door. "Leaving." He blurted curtly to avoid any more upsetting talks with his relatives as he darted out the front door.  
  
He jogged down the street, soon coming upon the local grocery. Emil entered, catching his breath as he made his way to the employee breakroom. “S-sorry I’m late, sir.”  
  
“It’s alright, Emil.” The blond’s boss, a man named Regal, smiled, sipping a cup of coffee. “Just try not to let it happen too often, okay?”  
  
“R-right.” Emil nodded. He grabbed the remaining articles of his uniform, slipping on a red apron and pinning his nametag to it, ready to begin stocking shelves for the day. He proceeded to the back room where there were crates of fresh produce lined up. He loaded several onto a rolling cart and wheeled them out, starting with his favorite: apples. Sure, he enjoyed most fruits - a great way to, quite literally, sweeten his life with some natural sugars - but apples were his favorites, if only for how nice they looked all stacked in a pyramid. He made sure to shuffle things around so that the older, riper fruits would be at the top, or at least on the outside, so that shoppers would be more likely to buy them, but he knew there was probably going to be some picky jackass later on that would upend the display trying to find “the perfect apple” right in the middle of the pyramid, and then probably wouldn’t even end up buying it.  
  
He was soon joined by his coworker, Colette, who had just finished unlocking all the registers. “Hi, Emil! What took you so long today? Your aunt and uncle being stupid again?”  
  
“Yeah, something like that.” Emil simpered. “It’s a long story actually. Some--” he was tempted to say ‘bozo’ but restrained himself, “Someone I met yesterday took a shine to me and thought it would be great to leave a bunch of pineapples on my doorstep and my uncle got mad.”  
  
“Over free pineapple? I think that would be a reason to be happy more than anything. Leave it to your uncle to spoil even that, I guess.”  
  
“Well, I mean… it was a lot of pineapple and I guess he was mad about it being all over the porch.”  
  
“Still no reason to get mad. Just… move them out of the way.”  
  
“There were more than three dozen, Colette.”  
  
The blond girl froze. “Who… who on earth takes that much time to lug around that many pineapples?”  
  
“Beats the hell out of me.” Emils laughed. “It was a lovely sentiment but really, it was more of a nuisance than anything and I had to remove them before coming in, otherwise Uncle Alba would have gotten the belt.” He was only half joking.  
  
“You can always come and spend the night at my place.” Colette offered. “I know it’s not much, but Lloyd and I could set up the couch for you if you ever need to stay somewhere.”  
  
“It’s fine.” Emil shook his head. “I don’t want to impose. Saving up for so long is starting to pay off. I should be able to get my own place in just a couple more years.”  
  
“I guess. But if they’re ever too much for you to handle, our door is always open.” Colette finished stacking a pallet of oranges. “Do you want to have lunch in the park with me today? We could pet the dogs. It might make you feel better.”  
  
“Yeah. That might be nice.”  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
“And here’s your change.” Emil counted out the bills and coins for the customer, making sure they received the correct amount. “Have a wonderful afternoon!”  
  
“Thank you, young man.” The older woman smiled. Emil placed the bags in her cart and she hobbled off through the sliding doors.  
  
“Ready to get going?” Colette asked, wearing a sun hat and holding a paper bagged lunch.  
  
“Yeah, just need to wait for Avery to come and take over.”  
  
Another customer approached the register, placing their items on the conveyor belt. Emil sighed, but set the belt in motion and began scanning the items. “Good afternoon, sir. How are you today?” Emil asked reflexively. The customer gave an acknowledging grunt. “Did you find everything okay?” The customer made a sort of “Yeah yeah, buzz off and scan my stuff” sort of noise as he scrolled through messages on his cellphone.  
  
“Your total comes to $53.82. How would you like to pay for that?”  
  
“That’s not possible. Those soups are on sale. I have a coupon.” He waved a piece of crumpled paper in Emil’s face. “You’re supposed to take it off automatically. Useless.”  
  
“Sir, that offer ended two days ago. The soups are no longer on sale. Would you like me to take them off your receipt?”  
  
“What do you mean the offer ended? Today’s the 8th! It ends on the 8th!”  
  
“Sir, it ended on the 6th.”  
  
“No! Look here! It says right here that it ends on the 8th!”  
  
Emil did his best to keep calm. “Sir, that number right there is a six, not an eight.”  
  
“I know how to read! It’s obviously an eight and you just don’t want to give me the discount!”  
  
“Sir, he’s right, that was last week’s Bargain Buy. It’s expired.” Colette tried to help, but it only seemed to make the customer furious.  
  
“Don’t give me that. I’ve been shopping here for years and you’re going to treat me like this?! Just give me the discount like you’re supposed to.”  
  
“Sir, if you’ve been coming here for years, you know that our system automatically applies the discount when items are on sale. The items you wanted to purchase are no longer on sale, therefore the computer will not give you the discount.”  
  
“But they’re listed as being on sale! I have the coupon to prove it!”  
  
Emil gritted his teeth, trying not to lose his cool. “Sir, the coupon has expired. The sale is no longer active. It is not possible for me to forcibly apply a coupon for a sale that has ended.”  
  
“You kids and your attitude! Get me your manager!”  
  
“Alright, sir. I will do that for you.” Emil picked up a handset for an intercom and pressed the button for the PA system. “Requesting manager on register 2, please.” He set down the handset. “The manager should arrive shortly.”  
  
“Good. Only thing you’re good for. I’m a paying customer, damn it, I don’t deserve this.”  
  
“Should I grab your lunch for you?” Colette whispered to Emil, anticipating that this could take longer than expected.  
  
“Lunch?! Typical. That’s all you young people do. Sit on your asses and eat on the clock.”  
  
“Actually, sir, as I’ve been on the clock for 5-and-a-half hours, now, and will be on the clock for more than two upon my return, it is legally required that I be given at least a 30 minute lunch break. I’m sure you have a lunch break wherever it is you work, too.”  
  
“Hmph, yes, but the operative word there is ‘work’, all you’ve done is make my life harder.”  
  
“While I deeply apologize for that, sir, I do in fact ‘work’ here. I’m sorry my service has not been to your liking, but I have done only what my manager has instructed me to do.”  
  
“Alright, what seems to be the trouble, here.” Regal walked up, eyeing the stubborn customer.  
  
“This… this boy won’t give me the discount on your canned soups!”  
  
“I see. And may I see your coupon?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, right here!”  
  
“Sir, this is for two days ago.”  
  
“What? Nah, can’t be. I checked!”  
  
“Sir, it clearly says the 6th. Perhaps you confused this coupon with one for another sale?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah… that must be it.” The customer seemed nervous, probably because he’d been caught in a lie. Either that or he was too intimidated to argue with a big buff manager like Regal.  
  
“Would you like to purchase your soups at our price, or should we amend your purchase?”  
  
“Nah, nah. It’s fine. I’ll buy ‘em.”  
  
“Glad I could be of help.” Regal stuck around while Emil finished ringing up the customer to prevent further trouble.  
  
“Here’s your change. Have a wonderful afternoon.”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, thanks.” The man slunk away and Emil heaved a sigh of relief.  
  
“He doesn’t listen to me or Colette, but he listens to you. That seems fair.”  
  
Regal chuckled. “Some people are just difficult. You just have to be assertive. Trust me, it helps. But aren’t you supposed to be on lunch already?”  
  
“Yeah, but Avery still hasn’t shown up to take over the register…”  
  
“Speak of the devil,” Regal said, pointing toward the brunet jogging up.  
  
“Sorry, had to help out a customer who was having trouble reaching some things,” Avery explained, taking Emil’s place at the register as Colette came back with Emil’s lunch.  
  
“Everything all set now?” the blonde asked.  
  
“Yeah, everything’s ready to go.” Emil nodded, removing his apron and getting ready to head out.


End file.
